


Iced Coffee, Espresso, Double Shot

by whetstone



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Secret Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetstone/pseuds/whetstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiyong sucks at kissing. Set during the filming of the Secret Garden parody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iced Coffee, Espresso, Double Shot

On the first take Jiyong chokes into Seunghyun's mouth, his eyes flying open. Seunghyun flops back to sit in his chair, looking more towards the director than him, even though the remnants of Jiyong's disgustingly foamy latte are still smeared onto his lips.

"Sorry," Seunghyun says, and he checks his watch, drawing his feet back when Jiyong's move automatically.

"I thought you were..." Jiyong's hand lifts and then falls again with a defeated thump. He points to his cheek. "It's supposed to be here."

"Yeah, I just got carried away." Jiyong can't see his face now, his gaze filled up with the geometric print on a makeup noona's shirt. "With acting, you know."

"I guess."

"The fans will like it."

She draws away. Seunghyun's nose is less shiny, the foam wiped off and the lipbalm reapplied. Jiyong wonders briefly about the flavor before he shakes himself.

"Just be G Ra-Im," he says.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't squirm all over the place like Seungri did."

"Are you going to kiss me like you did Seungri?"

Jiyong's voice cracks. Seunghyun gives him a strange look.

"....No," he says finally, "I'm just doing what the script says."

"But the script said--"

"Take two, okay?"

Seunghyun ignores him to nod at the director. Jiyong sighs, cracks his knuckles and dunks his lip back into the latte.

The second take is easier. He repeats Seunghyun's lines in his mind and then Seunghyun's hand is under his chin, the pads of his fingers a little calloused. Before Jiyong can blink Seunghyun's mouth is on his again, his lower lip pressing into Jiyong's upper one. They're warm and softer than he thought they'd be, a little wet, tasting faintly of vanilla lip balm and espresso. It makes him pull away hastily, ignoring the exasperated "cut!" the director shouts.

"Acting," Seunghyun says, and he grins again, like he's got this inside joke he isn't telling anyone.

"Just sit still," the director warns, and Jiyong swears they'd all discussed this not thirty minutes before. They'd agreed it was one kiss on the side of the mouth and the camera angles would hide it, all of that shit, but he turns around to see the director eyeing the monitor, his head tilted and his eyes narrowed. "Seunghyun-ah," he says, "keep doing that." He pauses for a moment before adding, "he's got a nice jaw line," more to himself than to Seunghyun, who turns a weird shade of red and twists towards him, dropping his head in a bow.

He does, Jiyong thinks, fingers digging into the seat's arm rests. From an aesthetic standpoint, Seunghyun-hyung has a nice jaw. A nice face. Nice eyes. Lips. Whatever. He'd nail it this time. It was just one take. And Seungri had it worse.

Take three. Jiyong's sick of the taste of hazelnut by now. Seunghyun's eyes are completely without shame, cocky as his character's, and when he leans in Jiyong has to force himself not to jump at the way his chair screeches backwards.

Fingers against his face, and Seunghyun's gaze sharpens a little as his nose touches Jiyong's cheek, as his mouth closes over his. A little jolt goes through Jiyong's body, sound rushing through his ears when Seunghyun holds it so the camera can zoom in, when he very carefully licks the small line of foam away with his tongue.

"Great," the director says, and the rush turns back into the hum of the soundstage. Seunghyun sits down again. He licks his own lips and Jiyong takes an instinctive gulp, staring down into the now-cold latte. "That's great. Jiyong, can you go to wardrobe for your next scene?"

\---

He's surprised to find Seunghyun at Youngbae and Daesung's apartment, the long neat lines of his legs sprawled against their couch, Daesung's headphones on his ears and his eyes closed. There's a magazine on his chest, the recessed lighting glancing off of its cover. Jiyong had meant to convince Youngbae to go out for fish cakes with him, but when he glances into the hall the door is closed and the lights are out.

He shakes Seunghyun's foot. "Hyung," he says loudly.

Nothing. He steps forward to shake his shoulder, one headphone sliding off of Seunghyun's ear. Robert Smith's warbling makes him roll his eyes. "Hyung," he almost shouts, "wake the fuck up."

Seunghyun's hand shoots up, snakes around his wrist. "Thought you were manager-hyung," he rasps, his voice rough with sleep and smoke. He cracks an eye open. "I was going to pretend to be asleep until he left."

"Because that always works."

They grin at each other. Jiyong finds himself staring at one of Seunghyun's cheekbones instead of his eyes. "Move over," he says, and Seunghyun sits up, dropping his legs onto the floor, his checkered socks clashing horribly with the striped carpet. "Nice sweater."

It's white wool, the sort of thing Jiyong's dad would wear. "Thanks," Seunghyun says anyway, and when Jiyong doesn't look over at him he scrunches down a little. "What? Were you gonna buy this?"

"Fuck no."

"Didn't think so," Seunghyun snorts. He clears his throat. Jiyong crosses his arms over his chest.

Seunghyun's lip is a little chapped, he thinks, eyes darting up towards it and down again. When the stylists aren't around he doesn't bother caring about things like that. Jiyong almost comments on it before he catches himself, silence spiraling into the air. Sometimes Seunghyun was so quiet.

"So I was reading," Seunghyun says finally, picking the magazine up off the floor. Their group is on the front, wearing the suits they were so fond of lately.

"You mean looking at your solo shots?"

"No, I was--"

"Our Top-hyung is so handsome," Jiyong teases, and instead of turning red Seunghyun just kind of smirks and turns towards him, his knee digging into Jiyong's thigh. Jiyong stares at his other cheekbone, the right one this time, the jibe dying fast on his lips.

"Anyway," Seunghyun continues, "you did a good interview."

He puffs up, weirdly proud like he is whenever Seunghyun commented on his interviews or his writing, even though they'd been showing each other for years. "Thanks."

"You didn't have to lie though." He flips through the pages, dragging a finger along one of the lines. "You said you were really good at kissing."

It makes him laugh, a little too high, a shiver climbing up his shoulders. "Who've you been talking to?"

"I don't have to talk to anyone," Seunghyun says seriously, and Jiyong's always hated that, the way he could be completely deadpan even as his eyes dance. "I have experience."

"That wasn't--"

Seunghyun tilts his head.

"That wasn't a real kiss."

"My mouth touched your mouth," he says, his brows going up. "That's not a kiss?"

"So you kissed Seungri?"

"Yeah," Seunghyun says easily. "Like I said, all this is making me question my orientation."

Jiyong laughs, one hand coming up to cover his face. Through his fingers he can see Seunghyun watching him, a smile lingering on his lips. "Like that would do anything."

"True," he agrees. "You're a pretty shitty kisser."

When Jiyong drops his hand, there's a glimmer of Kim Joo-Top there, in the way Seunghyun's mouth is twisted upwards, the way his fingertips drum against the magazine on his lap. "I'm not," Jiyong says, and even as the words leave him something in his chest heats up, warmth spreading in jitters. "That was for TV."

"It was still shit. So technically, you lied."

Seunghyun pokes his knee into him again, this cocky little smile on his face that Jiyong only sees on stage or at Nuthang parties or when he's got just the right verse down, like the cat that ate the canary. Jiyong doesn't know if he should laugh or punch him, because this trap was the neatest thing Seunghyun's ever set.

When Jiyong leans forward the magazine flops onto the floor. Seunghyun's mouth is hot and pliant against his. He doesn't react to the insistant press of Jiyong's lips, but when Jiyong takes it further, climbing right into his lap, Seunghyun makes a startled noise, grabbing at him even as he tries to scoot away. "No way," Jiyong says, and Seunghyun's pupils are blown, his body solid and warm against Jiyong's own. "You can't back out now."

"I'm not, I'm just..." He puts his head in his hand for a second, an incredulous laugh sneaking past his lips. "It's just weird." And then he's kissing him, long and slow, the lazy slip-slide of his tongue doing things to Jiyong's brain. His hips rock forward, hands roaming somewhere under the myriad of layers of Seunghyun's clothes. "This is so weird," he breathes, the words warm against Jiyong's mouth. Seunghyun's lip scrapes against the corners of his as he speaks, and they laugh a little.

Jiyong butts his head against his, squirming just to hear the sharp intake of Seunghyun's breath. He shrugs. "Yeah, but only if you make it weird."

-

"It was okay."

"Yeah?" Jiyong sits back, against Seunghyun's lap, his _lap_ , what the fuck are they doing, and Seunghyun's hands are at his hips, steadying him, one kind of feeling at him, up and down and it's. It's nice. And yeah, a little bit weird. "It was just okay?"

"I don't know," Seunghyun shrugs, and when his collar shifts Jiyong decides his neck is what he's going for next. "I just think you can do better."


End file.
